


Behind Every Crime

by ninamazing



Category: The X-Files, Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-07-19
Updated: 2008-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamazing/pseuds/ninamazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Veronica wanted to ask if he was kidding, but that seemed futile. The "X-Files"? So tacky.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Every Crime

**Author's Note:**

> When two characters I love both join the FBI, the connection seems obvious. Since this is the most embarrassingly fannish piece of fiction I have done in a long time, I'm pretty much expecting nobody to be into it except me. Which means the fact that you are even reading this at all is a huge act of kindness. _Thank you._ (Disclaimer: I do not know anything about the FBI or actual FBI agents ... just like Chris Carter. So this should go great.)

Veronica slept restlessly. It wasn't so inconvenient now that there had been no one sharing her bed for three months, but it still didn't help, what with early mornings at the FBI and all. She just didn't like not being present for things: in a city like L.A. stuff was always happening, and she wanted to be awake to face it. Or at least catch a _South Park_ rerun.

A glass of red wine in one hand and a television remote in the other, Veronica sat sunken in her white armchair. She was trying to listen to a blaring ad for some kind of electric razor, but it wasn't really working; she shut it off. With a sigh, as if in grudging acceptance, she leaned to her right and picked up the file.

It should have looked simple. It _would_ look simple to anyone but Veronica, whose classmates at the Academy had dubbed her "Miss Conspiracy" before the end of the first week. _Nothing changes,_ she thought to herself now as she stared at crime scene photos. _If it smells fishy, it's seafood, all right._

Three girls had gone missing from someone's lovely suburban community in Northern Virginia. The partial remains of two had been found — fifteen-year-olds — but so badly mutilated they'd had to be identified using dental records and DNA. The third girl, thirteen, was still at large.

The third girl's father was also missing; because of reports of sexual abuse in the family, he was a suspect, and once found would probably be jailed. Two weeks before the girls were reported missing, the third girl's mother had fled to either Canada or Mexico (reports varied). No one had yet been able to track her down for a statement.

"I should never, _ever_ take cases I find in the abandoned tray of the copy machine," Veronica ordered herself out loud, and tilted her head back to swig the rest of the wine.

 

The Assistant Director in Charge had an office assistant who looked even younger than Veronica. Over piles of paper arranged in clean black letter trays, he looked up at her expectantly.

"Veronica Mars?" she offered. Not everyone knew her yet. It was almost a nice change. "The assistant director wanted to see me?"

"Oh, _sure_ , you must be the one he's setting up with Spooky," the assistant enthused, grinning in a way Veronica found instantly disgusting.

"Setting up?" she asked. "'Spooky'?"

The assistant just laughed. "You can go on in," he told her, and turned back to his papers and phone. Veronica squared her gaze to the assistant director's door.

He smiled when he saw her. "Hey, Special Agent, come on in," he greeted her; "close the door behind you, and have a seat, please."

 _Oh God,_ thought Veronica. She sat.

"I've had a request from D.C. headquarters for a sharp-eyed field agent who doesn't take a lot of bullshit, and your name kind of sprung to mind."

 _Actually, I take that back,_ she thought. _This is a_ fantastic _start._

"I'm flattered, sir," she said out loud.

He smiled. "Good, because this is a fairly unusual assignment. You're going to be working with a new partner — something of a veteran, actually, _lot_ of expertise in criminal profiling — but he generally keeps to himself."

"Then why am I working with him ... if you don't mind my asking?"

The assistant director winced. "That's a bit of a delicate issue, and that's where we're going to have to trust you."

Veronica couldn't decide yet whether to be frightened or pleased. She didn't have as much experience with body language and profiling as she would have liked.

"You see," her boss continued, "this particular agent has gone off the deep end a bit. For some months now he's been spending most of his time on a collection of cases the Bureau has mostly filed away as unsolvable — as unexplained phenomena. They're called the X-Files."

Veronica wanted to ask if he was kidding, but that seemed futile. _The X-Files? So tacky._

"We want you to follow along with him, assist him in his work, and report back to us on what you find."

"What I ... find?" Veronica repeated. "About the cases, or about him?"

"In a word, both," answered her superior. "To be honest, nobody's really looked at the X-Files before him, and we're not quite sure what to make of them. We figure we might as well make use of this — interest — of his and see if anything comes of it. But you understand that at the same time, we're not interested in wasting our best minds on cases that are already locked up. We'd like to see what you can do with these X-Files, if anything."

Veronica waited. There _had_ to be more coming than that.

The assistant director leaned forward conspiratorially. "If you ask me, within a month or so you two will be back on domestic terrorism. But D.C. says jump .... Anyway, his most recent case involves three girls in a little lakeshore community in Northern Virginia."

A slow chill walked down the back of Veronica's spine. She had never believed in coincidence. And this, apparently, was all they felt like telling her.

She swallowed. "Can I ask — if the X-Files are basically closed, why didn't somebody just tell this agent to stop looking?"

The assistant director grinned like a villain in a horror movie.

"You'll have fun," he told her. "I've told A.D. Skinner you'll be there in two days."

"A.D. Skinner? So that's him?"

"No, no," he chuckled. "Sorry, I should have said. Your new partner's name is Fox Mulder."

 

 _Quarter 3: Alexis displays considerable facility with the English language — I especially enjoyed her journal response to "To Kill a Mockingbird."_

 _Alexis received above-average marks on all of her exams this quarter, but had some trouble turning in homework assignments on time._

 _Alexis is a joy to have in art class ..._

Fox Mulder's back was killing him. He had been staring at three girls' school records for the entire morning, and finding nothing. If he were still in seventh grade, he'd be demanding recess right about now.

"Agent Mulder?"

Mulder looked up, and there was the assistant director. Skinner never seemed comfortable down here; he was eyeing the "I WANT TO BELIEVE" poster with some distaste, and he had stuffed his hands firmly in his pockets.

"What's up, sir?"

"Just thought I'd let you know, real quick ..." Skinner took a breath. "I'm assigning you a new partner. She flies in from L.A. tomorrow morning."

Mulder's mouth fell open, but Skinner wasn't looking right at him, and so could pretend not to notice.

"I've already interviewed her. It turns out she ... she's familiar with this case as well, so she might be able to hit the ground running. She's kicked ass out in California so far."

Mulder was frowning. His back pain suddenly seemed a lot less serious.

"'So far'?" he questioned.

"She's about three months out of the Academy."

"You're _kidding_ me."

"I never kid, Agent Mulder."

"Sir, with all due respect, the X-Files —"

"The X-Files," Skinner said firmly, "are an indulgent side project of yours which you are lucky to be able to pursue."

"So why torture someone else with it?" Mulder demanded, his jaw clenched.

"You're a criminology genius," Skinner said, with the easy smile of someone who didn't owe Mulder an explanation for anything. "And so's your new partner, by the sound of it. You'll be a great mentor, I'm sure — and more importantly," he continued, as Mulder's mouth opened again, "you're no good to anyone hiding in the basement. From now on you will work on the X-Files _only_ with the help of your new partner."

"My new partner," Mulder repeated, with ill-disguised belligerence.

"Your new partner," Skinner confirmed, "Special Agent Veronica Mars."

As Skinner headed out, Mulder leaned into his chair. It was over. He just hoped Special Agent Mars was cute and pliable and happy to stay well out of his way.

"Hey, uh —"

Skinner stopped at the door, and turned around.

"Any chance you know someone in the building who gives good back massages?" Mulder asked, with that goofy half-grin.

Skinner just snorted.


End file.
